The gilded ballroom shimmered with the soft glow of candlelight, casting warm reflections upon the sea of elegantly clad dancers. At the center of the dance floor, Anthony Bridgerton led Penelope Featherington in a waltz, his movement assured, his attention unwavering.
From the edge of the ballroom, Violet Bridgerton watched the pair with an expression that could only be described as motherly delight. A glass of champagne rested lightly in her gloved hand, though she hardly seemed to remember it, so absorbed was she in the sight of her eldest son –herAnthony – dancing with such ease and devotion.
"Well, well." Came a familiar, sharp voice to her left. "I never thought I would live to see the day when Lord Bridgerton would voluntarily grace the dance floor for any reason other than obligation."
Violet turned to find the formidable Lady Danbury beside her, her cane resting against the polished floor, her shrewd eyes twinkling with amusement."
"Agatha!" Violet greeted warmly, though there was no mistaking the mischievous glint in her own eyes. "I must admit, it is quite the sight, is it not? My son, the ever-elusive Viscount, dancing as if heenjoysit."
Lady Danbury let out a soft chuckle, surveying the couple with interest. "I cannot fault him for his past reluctance. The man has been duty-bound since he was a boy. But look at him now." She taped the ground lightly with her cane. "I daresay he has finally found himself areasonto enjoy such frivolities."
Violet let out a sigh, her smile deepening. "Indeed, he has."
Agatha glanced at her. "And will you keep me in suspense, or shall I be permitted to hear the full tale?"
Violet's giddiness was impossible to suppress. "It is official." She declared, unable to contain the note of pride in her voice. "Anthony and Penelope have begun their courtship."
At this, Lady Danbury raised her brows, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing her usually unreadable face. But the expression soon melted into one of quiet approval. "Penelope Featherington?" She mused. "Well. thatisan unexpected turn."
Violet inclined her head knowingly. "It is unexpectedonlybecause no one in the ton had the good sense to notice her sooner. But my son, thank heavens, has proven himself the wiser for it."
Lady Danbury let out a thoughtful hum, observing the couple more closely. "I cannot say I disagree. She has always been a rather sharp young woman, though woefully overlooked." Her gaze flicked back to Violet. "You are a fortunate woman, Violet Bridgerton. Miss Featherington will make for a delightful daughter-in-law."
Violet's heart swelled at the words. "Oh, Agatha, you have no idea how long I have hoped for such a match. For years, I thought it would be Colin who would bring Penelope into our family. I had all but convinced myself of it."
"Ah." Lady Danbury nodded sagely. "And yet, it was thewrongBridgerton you placed your hopes on."
Violet chuckled. "Precisely. It seems I was mistaken about which of my sons had thesenseto recognize a true gem when he saw one." She turned back toward the dance floor, her expression fond. "But Anthony... he sees her now."
Lady Danbury took a sip from her own glass. "And that." She murmured. "Is all that matters."
A comfortable silence passed between them as they watched the couple glide across the floor.
After a moment, Agatha tilted her head slightly. "I do hope, for your sake, that this courtship proceeds to marriage. Your son does not have the best history when it comes to such matters.Miss Edwina Sharma, if you recall."
Violet sighed at the mention of Anthony's failed betrothal from last season. "Oh, I remember it well." She admitted. "But this... this is different." She exhaled, watching the way Anthony's gaze never strayed from Penelope, the way his hold on her was both protective and reverent. "With Penelope, he is not merelydoinghis duty. He even went to Cornwall just to bring back the dear girl back here in London. Hewantsthis."
Lady Danbury nodded approvingly. "Then we shall both hope that, this time, your son does not let a good thing slip away."
Violet lifted her glass. "To that, I shall drink."
And as the music swelled, carrying the dancing couple into another sweeping turn, both women exchanged a knowing smile.
The clock in Mayfair struck well past midnight, its chimes echoing faintly over the quiet streets. Most of the grand houses along Grosvenor Square were dark, their occupants having retired after the evening's festivities. Yet, standing resolutely in the shadows of the Featherington gardens, Anthony Bridgerton endured the chill of the night air, his sharp gaze fixed on the servants' entrance of the estate.
He had taken note of the unmarked hackney earlier in the evening – a detail too inconspicuous to the untrained eye but glaringly suspicious to Anthony. The sight of the carriage had ignited a quiet but resolute certainty: Penelope Featherington was up to something.
And sure enough, as he lingered beneath the cover of a large yew tree, a small figure cloaked in a dark maid's uniform emerged from the house. The figure moved with practiced swiftness, their steps unhesitating as they approached the waiting hackney. Though the hood concealed the figure's features, Anthony would recognize that silhouette anywhere.
Penelope Featherington.
He moved quickly, his boots silent on the gravel path. Just as Penelope climbed into the carriage and began to close the door, Anthony's gloved hand intercepted it, pulling the door open before stepping in uninvited.
"Anthony!" Penelope gasped, her crystal blue eyes wide with shock as she instinctively drew her hood tighter around her face. "What in heaven's name are you doing here?"
Settling into the seat across from her, Anthony shut the door behind him and rapped sharply on the roof of the hackney. "Drive on." He ordered the coachman through the open window, his tone brooking no argument.
The carriage jolted forward, and Penelope's glare deepened. "You have no right to commandeer my carriage, my lord." She said through clenched teeth.
Anthony arched a brow, leaning back with the air of a man entirely unbothered by her irritation. "As your suitor, and your soon-to-be husband, I have every right to ensure your safety."
Penelope crossed her arms tightly, her cheeks flushed, though whether from indignation or the chill of the night, Anthony could not tell. "I have been taking care of myself for years." She retorted. "I hardly require your assistance now."
Anthony's features grew firm, his dark eyes locking onto hers with quiet intensity. "And what sort of man would I be." He said, his voice low and commanding. "If I allowed my intended to wander the streets of London unescorted, in the dead of night, no less? What kind of husband could I claim to be, Penelope?"
The weight of his words silenced her for a moment. She had grown accustomed to fending for herself, to slipping through London's shadows unnoticed. Yet, here was Anthony Bridgerton, insisting on bearing a burden she had carried alone for so long.
She opened her mouth to argue further but stopped when Anthony exhaled softly, his tone softening. "I promised to help you with this." He reminded her gently. "Let me keep that promise."
Resigned, Penelope leaned back against the seat, her irritation giving way to a grudging acceptance. The rest of the journey passed in tense silence until the hackney slowed to a stop near the printing shop.
As she reached for the door, Anthony's hand shot out, halting her. "I will not permit you to go in alone." He said firmly.
Penelope shot him a pointed look. "And I will not permit you to accompany me. Dressed as you are, you might as well hang a sign announcing your rank. Do you wish to alert the entire city to our presence?"
For a moment, Anthony seemed poised to argue, but he glanced down at his attire – a fine evening coat, a silk cravat in muted mint green to match her gown earlier – and conceded with a reluctant nod. "Ten minutes." He said. "No more."
Penelope smirked faintly. "You are far too bossy for your own good, my lord."
With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Anthony to fume quietly in the hackney.
When she returned, her cheeks were flushed with the cold, but there was a satisfied gleam in her eyes. As the hackney began its journey back to Grosvenor Square, Anthony broke the silence.
"From now on.." He said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Your drafts will be delivered by one of my trusted footmen."
Penelope's eyes narrowed. "Anthony, I have been managing this perfectly well without –
"While her Majesty may be aware of your alter ego, the ton remains in ignorance." He interrupted, his voice sharp with warning. "But if they were to discover the truth, do you think they would react kindly to the idea of a viscountess penning their scandals?"
Penelope looked away, her hands twisting in her lap.
Anthony leaned forward, his voice softening once more. "Your safety matters to me, Penelope. And so does the reputation of our family. Let me protect you."
At last, she met his gaze, her own eyes softening despite her frustration . "Very well." She murmured, though her tone carried a hint of reluctance.
Satisfied, Anthony sat back with a nod. "Good. Now, let us see you safely home."
And as the hackney rattled through the quiet streets, Anthony allowed himself a small smile. Penelope Featherington was a force to be reckoned with, but he had no intention of letting her carry her burdens alone. Not anymore.
